The Vocaloids
by Zach Archer
Summary: Fifteen year old Miku Hatsune is sick of life. Neglected and bullied, the only reason she has clung to life is the vision of a pink haired girl. Her life is about to change forever. As her family falls apart around her, a colorful cast of characters pulls her into a new life, in a new world full of new and exciting romances-the kind of place where a girl can sing her pain away.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Depression. A deep dark hole in which I can't claw my way out. I've tried every method. I sat in the pit harboring bottles of antidepressants and swallowed them whole, as if they were candies. I took a razor against my wrists as if I were my own worst enemy and all I wanted was for myself to disappear. The pit became a full bathtub once. I tried to drown myself in it. But I couldn't. I was too weak to kill myself, to free myself from this pit. Mama and papa were never there to help me. No boys looked my way. Every girl in school made fun of me. The teachers saw the cuts on my wrist and tried to restrain me and take me to the nurse. They all thought I was a pariah. They all hurt me…nobody was there for me. My apartment was lonely and all I ever heard were the voices telling me I wasn't good enough. I was ugly. I was stupid. _

_ And then I died. _

_ And woke up in the arms of a pink haired girl. Her hair smelled like ripe strawberries and her breaths were soft against my chin. She was…naked. As she breathed her large breasts pressed against my small breasts. Wait…I'm naked too? Our nipples are rubbing together and I feel a wetness between my legs. Did we…really do that? I-is she the one? The one who will save me? I press my lips against hers. Yes…this warmth…this beautiful warmth that spreads through my body…she is the one. _

_ And then I wake up in that pit again and cry out for that pink haired beauty. _


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Dad tapped the ash from his cigarette into an empty beer can. I watched it with relative disinterest. Dad always started the day with the newspaper spread on the table and a cigarette clamped between his teeth. He always placed the beer can right on the very edge of the paper so the fan in the corner wouldn't blow it away. He was curious in how careful he was when it came to the paper blowing away, but not the hot ash from his cigarette falling to the news section and setting it alight. Not that myself or mom cared. The whole house could burn down and neither of us would shed a tear. It held a lot of awful memories. For me, fifteen years of abuse and neglect would be taken from this world. For mom, twenty years of the same would go up. For dad, well, he didn't care about anything. He'd find a new home somewhere. Mom would follow like a lost puppy. I'd be forced to go too. Create more terrible memories in another awful hellhole.

Mom walked out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee that she set next to dad's paper. He folded it up, stubbed his cigarette out in the can, and handed the paper to mom. I noticed a bruise beneath her left eye. A fresh one. I had to look away. It disgusted me to see my mom in such a state. She couldn't even go out shopping because of how beat up she was. She made me go out and do it. Dad didn't care. Why should he? The only reason the asshole stays around is because my mom will cook meals for him and bang him whenever he asks. And because she's the only woman on the planet who would take his mindless abuse like it was normal. And what could I do? Call the police? Have dad's goons find me, rape me, and kill me? I was just a consequence of his actions rather than a gift. I was tolerated just like mom. Dad kept me around because…I don't really know why. And mom kept me around because I could run errands for her when she looked like she does today.

"Miku got an A on her history exam yesterday." Mom was in denial. She still talked to my dad like they were a normal married couple.

Dad grunted and looked at me over the rim of his mug. He had slanted eyes, very foreboding and evil. You could tell just looking at him he was a criminal. His eyes, his scarred face, his ridiculous suits and alligator skin shoes. A lieutenant in a Sapporo yakuza family. A pathetic man who enjoys violence and murder. I know he's killed people over money before. I know he's also screwed up because he's missing half the pinkie finger of his right hand.

I managed a smile. He managed another grunt. Mom set a plate of toast and pastries out for us and set between us, feigning the same feigned smile she'd been feigning her entire life with dad.

Mom pretended to care about me. That's why she was the worst of the two as far as parents go. At least I knew dad didn't care about me and didn't want anything to do with me. I was just a tool to mom. Nothing more, nothing less. Mom's only redeeming quality was one that I shared with her: beautiful aqua blue hair. I shared no other features with my parents, which was always strange to me. It always made me feel that maybe I was adopted and the hair thing was nothing more than a coincidence or the reason I was chosen against the other orphans. I don't know…and I really don't care.

Dad ate a single piece of toast before getting up and heading out to work.

"I'll need you to go shopping for me today." Mom said without making eye contact. Like asking favors to someone who doesn't even exist.

"I wanted to go out to the movies." I muttered.

"Not today. After the shopping I'll need you to do some chores outside. And make dinner for your father while I clean the house."

Sunday. No school. My only day off all week. And this is how I spent nearly every single day off. No free time. No fun. Just whatever mom wanted.

I finished my breakfast and stormed up to my room to get out of my pajamas and into something more comfortable. I don't have many clothes, but what I have I like. I put on a black tank top, white jacket, and a plaid red skirt. I get some thigh high red and black striped socks on then start downstairs to grab the shopping list and money.

Mom never suspected I would take her money and run.

There was a long thought processed involved in this decision. The kind that takes an entire walk to the Family Mart a few blocks away. Was it a good idea for a fifteen year old girl to walk out and away from her schooling, from her parents, from the life she had cemented for her? Was it smart to walk into the unknown, a scary world where some men are compelled by lust and back alleys always carry a morbid secret? I can't pretend to say I understand the world. Like I said, I've lived a sheltered existence. I'm not allowed to do much of anything and I can't even claim to have left Sapporo. People at school were always talking about excursions to Kyoto or Tokyo or even Okinawa. I just listened from the sidelines and dreamed of someday going there. I even heard a story about America once. A girl went to Chicago with her parents. Everyone was envious, but I was especially so.

The Family Mart was quiet, only a few people browsing the wares. A girl a few years older than myself smiled at me from behind the checkout. I smiled back as best I could and went straight to the back, buying a backpack. A small tube of tooth paste, a toothbrush, deodorant, all from the toiletries section. I bought a few snacks to throw in the case. I still had enough yen left over to stop at the clothing shop next door and buy a few discount clothes. A couple skirts and tops, a pack of panties, a new bra. My shoes were sturdy enough to survive a hike across Japan.

Everything went in the backpack. I then started in a random direction. I didn't really care where I wound up. Japan is an island, so if I go too far anywhere I'd find myself at the water. I really wanted to go to Tokyo though. Maybe I could find a job there and get an apartment under a different name and start school anew.

My trek to Tokyo last two minutes before I noticed a man in a suit with sunglasses obscuring his face. He was idling about on the sidewalk, blue hair a mess atop his head. The suit was white. A long blue scarf was wrapped around his neck despite the fact it was the middle of July. When he saw me, he stopped his stepping about.

"Don't see that hair style much." He said. A pleasant voice, kind of sing-song. Completely opposite the attire.

I stroked on of my twin tails with a silly smile on my face. "It's my favorite style."

"It's cute." I blushed. Nobody had ever said that to me before. Miku plus cute isn't a rational equation. It never has been. And…for a boy to say such a thing…

"T-thank you!" I turned away. No need to show the guy I looked like a tomato.

"So, what's your name?" He leaned against a shop front and took off his sunglasses. He had gorgeous blue eyes.

"M-Miku Sakura." And before you think I don't know who I am, I'll explain where Hatsune came from later.

"S-Sakura?" The guy's eyes went wide. "Holy shit!"

"W-what?" He never answered. His cell phone was out and he started talking into it. Something clicked in my mind as he looked at me.

"Is this about my dad?"

The guy shoved his cell phone in his pocket and grabbed my wrist. "We gotta go."

I tried to shake him off but his grip was strong. I tried pulling at his scarf but it didn't strangle him. It just unraveled and dragged on the ground. He had a beast-like look in his eyes when he saw half his scarf on the ground. His grip tightened where I thought he might break my wrist.

"Never. Touch. The. Scarf."

I gave it up to him and let him lead me away. I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I was dealing with Yakuza. I should have run the moment I saw his clothing. I shouldn't have talked to the damn guy.

A few blocks later, a car came careening around the corner like a bat out of hell. The guy pulled the back door open and thrust me inside. He got in beside me and buckled in.

"Might wanna put your seat belt on. Meiko's as shitty a driver as you can get."

The brown haired girl at the wheel looked at my captor from the rear view mirror. "Don't listen to Kaito. I only drive that way when he's around."

"Who the hell are you people?" I was kind of scared. I didn't want to be part of my dad's affairs. I had nothing to do with my dad. I hated the guy!

"If this is about my dad, then you're going to get nothing! He hates me and I hate him!"

Kaito looked at me and sighed. "I was sent to find you. I never thought I'd run into you on the street though."

Find me?

"We need to get you to a safe house. Despite what you may think, the oyabun has morals. He doesn't want you involved in the battle that's about to go down." He took a big black pistol from the inside of his jacket and rolled his window down. "Your mom will be safe. It's obvious your dad could give a shit less about her. But the other families don't know that he doesn't like you. This whole town is about to explode and the last thing we want is an innocent girl getting caught up in it."

"Well, looks like I am to me."

Kaito sighed. He had piled his scarf on his lap and looked through the rearview window and the side windows. The pistol was up, ready to be aimed at anyone who tried to mess with him. It was scaring me.

"The oyabun has a daughter. A few years older than you. You'll like her. She's a singer. Part of a jazz band." Kaito smiled. "I'm her drummer."

"We're free Kaito. No tails or anything." Meiko said as we left the city and started into farm country.


End file.
